


Genetic Sexual Attraction

by grampasampler



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal, Anxiety, Bottom Rick, Consensual Incest, Depression, Incest, M/M, Macro/Micro, Masturbation, Medical Kink, Shame, Soft Vore, Stress, genetic sexual attraction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-07 06:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18405173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grampasampler/pseuds/grampasampler
Summary: Meant as a continuation of the Pickle Rick episode.  It's a mix of angst and WANKst with some absurdity tossed in too.  Merry Christmas, I guess!  Aahaha! ^^;





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Holy sweet baby jesus, I hope y'all enjoy this ridiculous shit, haha. I have a compulsive tendency to fuckin go over shit about a gajillion times tryna make it as close to my idea of "perfect" as possible, but then I usually never end up sharing it's "not good enough, blablabalabla". XD Buuuuut anyway, I am kicking my own ass and forcing myself to finally start sharing some shit with people other than just my bff, lol.

Morty pushed his way through the front door and into the entryway of his parents'—no, his _mother's_ —two story suburban home. This place... what a shit excuse for a home. Obviously not structurally or financially, but substantially, this “home” was lacking in all possible forms of emotional nourishment. 

Morty was exhausted and depressed beyond belief. He heaved a monumental sigh and forced his limp body up the stairs and into his room. Once inside, he felt the weight of the day begin to slowly slide off of his shoulders; however feeling no real, true sense of relief from it. His hopes for stability, self improvement and a clearer understanding of his life in general had all been dashed to pieces yet again by the unbelievable level of avoidance exhibited by both Rick and his mother. 

He sighed once more, peeling off the itchy sweater and loosening his tie. He then ungracefully undid his pants and kicked them off like a fussy child before collapsing onto his mattress. He laid there for a long while, staring at the wall. The old, dusty posters peeling up at the corners looked so faded now. It had been so long since he'd first hung the damn things. They meant nothing to him anymore. His eyes, his head, his chest _ached_ for something substantial. 

He watched his thoughts as they wandered to the subject of Rick. This year with him had been the hardest yet, and with Rick having only been around for just a few years altogether, that said a lot. Morty had recently realized that he'd spent almost the entirety of the past year denying himself of all the little freedoms and indulgences of any other kid his age. True, in the couple years prior, Rick had been majorly manipulative, pushy and downright abusive when vying for Morty's time, but Morty was no longer so sure that was the main reason he went along on their “adventures” anymore.

 _And anyway, Rick had actually made a few improvements, recently!_ He argued with himself. 

It was true though that he felt immensely exhausted and that some part of him still yearned for normalcy, but of late he'd found himself overwhelmed by an almost crushing need to experience that exhilarating terror... And the thrilling relief of coming home to have a powerwank and a 12 hour nap after a week spent in full anguish over something pointlessly dangerous with Rick. 

Morty knew in his heart that he had sacrificed so much of himself to help Rick and lost so much in the process. Many of his losses he definitely blamed Rick for, but he was becoming aware that he had started to seek out many of those self-destructive trials of his own volition now. Perhaps that was Rick's fault too? It felt too easy and almost immature for him to place the full blame on Rick though, so he didn't. Maybe that was some form of abuse-conditioned guilt talking, but whatever the case, he just wanted to be able to trust _any_ of his feelings and observations about the situation... Just trust himself for once without the dutiful worry thought of always having to over-analyze himself to the point of nausea.

So even though he acknowledged the problematic parts of his situation with Rick, considered the dialectics... he was still a mess inside. And since he had just lost his chances at a really _kickass_ therapist to help him process this shit, he was beginning to feel thoroughly screwed. He wondered if maybe he really _should_ stop going on adventures with his grandpa, but the risk of letting go felt more terrible than the risk he was taking by going with in the first place... And in all honesty, the very thought of no longer being around Rick made him want to _weep_. It was a fucking conundrum.

What kind of person was he? What kind of _MAN_ was he? He didn't really feel like a man. But in just a few days he'd be 18, so he should feel different, right? God, was he arrested in his development? Or had he just grown up too fucking fast to notice any difference now? He didn't feel any more well equipped for adulthood than he had 3 and a half years ago, though... especially after pissing his pants at his desk in the middle of class. How fucking humiliating. It was bad enough he'd been held back already. And the threat of being put in a special alternative school was looming over him now too. Last thing he wanted was to be shunned even more. Felt like things couldn't get any fucking worse. 

School was the last place he wanted to be, _now_ , though... or _here_ , in this sad, hollow home. 

Morty cried to himself. Then he thought of Rick again. Even when he was often so confused and furious, so disappointed with or embittered by Rick, he still longed for him to be near. The byproduct of their crazy, complicated and often toxic partnership was the confusing feelings he had forming inside of him. 

Firstly, Morty knew their dynamic was more like a friendship than anything you'd normally establish with a parent or guardian. That was definitely out of the norm, but nothing terribly alarming. The shit that troubled him was more... _internal_. For instance, things that once meant next to nothing to Morty had now taken on such deep, inexplicable sentimental value. Something as small as a matchbook or a wirey blue-grey hair in his belongings would make him burn to see Rick. Simply recalling the fucking smell of his grandfather while at school or alone in bed (and why was this happening in the first place?) would actually make his heart feel as though it were overflowing with emotion. It was incredibly overwhelming. It was almost like in those moments he was mourning the loss of Rick, when he was still very much alive. 

Additionally, Morty had noticed a desperate, clambering urge to fill this huge void of longing in himself wherever Rick was concerned. He sometimes felt himself almost regressing to a childlike state of need, where he would cry and cry and wish desperately to be held and comforted. He wasn't sure why Rick was the one he thought of in these moments, instead of one of his parents or even someone like Jessica. He felt so helpless... And he knew he wanted (possibly _needed?_ ) more from Rick than he was sure the crazy old bastard could ever realistically give him. 

It was all terrible and powerful and damn confusing.

Again, Morty wasn't quite sure why he felt this way about Rick, of all people. He'd spent many a sleepless night over-analyzing every bit of it, frantically searching himself for some small clue as to what he could do to resolve the issue, but he never came to any solid conclusion. Was it a lack of a strong, respectable father figure? A need for a powerful masculine role model? Or was it his desperate loneliness and isolation from his peers? Could it be that he had simply formed complicated feelings because of that huge gap of time between his birth and Rick's return? That the deep connection one forms with a family member who is present from the start was never there in the first place for them, but that energy of attraction still inexplicably was? 

Every possible answer he could come up with felt forced out of some sheer sense of duty to the grand order of things; borne of that “planetary mindset” Rick often ranted about. Morty knew that the “planetary” way of thinking was still important on some level and yet he still chose to reject it. He knew better. He knew nothing was ever so simply explained. So he wasn't exactly certain of how or why his complicated feelings had formed, but he knew it was probably wrong on some level, even despite what he now knew to be the truth of the universe; that nothing truly “mattered”... 

But Rick mattered, and his family mattered. It all still fucking mattered to Morty despite full-well knowing what he knew. And he wondered how much more Rick still knew than he did. It was a terrifying concept that often pulled him down a rabbit hole and left him ruminating for hours, though this time he decided not to entertain the thought. Tonight, Morty was already too wound up from the stress of things and he needed to fucking relax. 

Rick and his mother could be out for any number of hours, and Summer had immediately flopped onto the couch with her phone glued to her nose, so she was pretty much “down for the count”. No one to talk to... No good distractions... 

Morty realized he was still wearing just the yellow dress shirt and a loose tie. He shifted from his back onto his left side, facing away from his wall, now and gazing into the center of the room. 

He stared down at the little space-themed throw rug on his floor. He'd had it since he was about nine. He found it funny that something he'd once fantasized so much about as a child could now feel about as normal and boring as taking a shit. He now spent days, sometimes weeks at a time doing real, actual shit that was crazier than anything the characters did on any of the stupid sci-fi shows he'd watched growing up. This fucking “normal” life shit seemed so far away from him now. 

_Goddamn it!_ He noticed he was doing it again; comparing and ruminating... And probably for a solid 25 minutes now! He forced his eyes tightly shut and took the deepest breath yet. _I NEED to stop doing this to myself. I just need to go to bed._

This obsessive thinking problem had gotten to be too much for poor Morty to bear. He was starting to exhaust himself daily with just that part alone. His mind craved explanation, closure, but he knew very well that nothing he could come up with would ever convince his Anxiety that anything in his life was safe anymore. And he knew his subconscious would see right through any attempts he made to trick himself. He mused to himself that he wasn't as stupid as everyone made him out to be. 

He furrowed his brow and relived a few old traumas before shaking it off and covering his head with the blanket. _Jesus Christ! It's time to REST_ , he told himself. He reached out from the blanket and opened the drawer of his end table. He rifled through it till he found his earbuds. He popped them into his laptop, found a soothing playlist and closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, less emo more horne~

Morty could not have predicted how absolutely famished he would be upon awakening; it was pretty troubling. He hoisted himself up from the mattress and threw his comforter aside into a messy pile before making the decision to creep downstairs for sustenance. As he was reaching for the doorknob his eyes caught glimpse of the clock on his desk. _Aw, jeez! 18 hours?! How did I even manage to sleep for that long?!!_

He cautiously turned the knob and gently stepped out into the hallway. All the lights were out. Good. He definitely didn't want to run into anyone in his current state (a shirt and no pants, rockin' mad morning wood). He tiptoed down the stairs into the kitchen. Thankfully, the floors in their home weren't too terribly creaky and anyway, Summer slept with a fan that made a helluva ruckus, even on its lowest setting. 

He managed to sneak to the fridge without disturbing anyone, so far so good! Morty pulled the door handle; the sticky magnetic strip peeled open with an unsettling crunchy sort of sound that felt far louder than it would've had he not been trying to be so stealthy. He braced himself for the worst, but no one came out. His stomach nestled back down into its rightful place as he glanced over the meager contents of their refrigerator. 

_Aw jeez._

He reached down to pull open one of the crisper drawers. Located inside were a couple plastic bags filled with various types of vegetables; salad mix, carrots, peppers and a couple cucumbers. He felt his stomach swoop curiously when he eyed the cucumbers. Trying to make sense of that shit made him feel uneasy, so he closed the drawer and settled on cereal. He poured himself a bowl as quietly as possible (thankfully the cereal was in flake form). Then he stood in the kitchen just eating in the dark; him resting his back against the counter top. 

Morty munched away, his eyes wandering over the dimly lit kitchen counters, the cabinets, then to the window where the ghostly moon glow shone in from. It was eerily peaceful... He never felt like this anymore and had decided to revel in it. 

Just then, an intrusive thought popped into his mind; Rick as a pickle, lying helplessly on his table in the garage and Morty picking him up like fucking King Kong, and putting him in his mouth to bite down. Not hard enough to break him apart, just enough for him to hold Rick in place, and for his canine teeth to slightly puncture through the thick skin. In his mind, Morty _bit_ his grandfather. as a _pickle_. and then sucked down his _juice_... 

Morty narrowed his eyes at no one. _The hell?_ He asked himself why, but instead of an answer, his mind just flashed to the memory of the back of the front passenger side seat of his mother's car as Rick was transforming back into his human self. Morty recalled how he had been aware that Rick would be naked once he turned back... Nonchalantly recalled how he'd realized he was so familiar with Rick's body that he knew exactly where his deepest wrinkles and most gnarly scars were. He also recalled the sound Rick had made when transforming back—a deep, pained groan—and he in turn, in the present moment, felt himself _stir_. 

He was _mortified_. His “morning wood” had settled in his pants shortly after he opened the fucking fridge, so what the hell was that about? Of course, subconsciously, he knew _exactly_ what it was about... The same desperate longing he'd developed for a closer bond with Rick had found itself bleeding into other parts of his mind all the time, so it was really just a matter of time before this shit happened. Oh, poor Morty began to self-analyze again, asking himself if his new unhealthy intrusive thoughts were due to his mind attempting to find new ways to build more closeness with Rick by sexualizing him. Morty's stomach quivered. _Sexualizing_ him. His _grandfather_. Morty was... _sexualizing_ his fucking _grandfather_. 

This was beyond awful! Absolutely fucking gut wrenching and horrid! Morty had gone and taken that additional step towards a one-way, first class ticket to Hell (good thing he knew now for certain that Hell didn't exist, but that didn't make this any less awkward or horrifying to process)! Through the queasy, thrashing feeling in his stomach and the rapid pounding of his heart, poor Morty's penis had taken it upon itself to stiffen even further. 

_This isn't happening._ He choked to himself. 

He was now starting to work up quite the panic. _How do I stop this? How do I make this go away???_ But his growing shame only seemed to have the _opposite effect_... and as his feelings of shame and regret swelled, so too did the organ between his thighs. Morty was quickly becoming overwhelmed by the need to touch it and bring himself relief, on top of everything else, but he worried that doing so would also solidify his terrifying new predicament. He realized, with yet _more_ burning shame, that he would not be able to resist doing so for long because the need was becoming far too fucking strong. 

Morty clenched his eyes tightly shut and tried to think of Jessica instead; her heaving breasts, long legs and bright red hair, but no sooner had he pictured her that she disintegrated from his mind's eye and through the haze of her appeared the deep lines of his grandfather's tired face; his eyes intense and heavy, his mouth a grimace of yellow teeth and green drool. 

_Ugh!_ Why did such gross shit have such an effect on him? 

Rick was pretty goddamn gross, and aside from him being old as shit and _RELATED TO MORTY_ , he was constantly burping and barfing and farting and just being generally crude. What was it about Rick that Morty could possibly find so attractive that he'd suddenly have himself all worked up and _drippy_ over him? Morty's cheeks and ears burned. 

_Was it the need for male mentorship and approval thing?_ He asked himself again. _Or maybe the power dynamic?_ Or was it the way Rick was so different from him in almost _every way_? It seemed like it could've been any of those things; maybe all of them. Whatever it was, trying to figure it out right _now_ wasn't making him any softer. 

He opened his eyes and gently plodded towards the sliding glass window. He stared out at the huge, glowing moon outside. It looked so strange that it gave him a sense of romantic excitement that sent a shiver down his spine. The thought of Rick as a pickle came back again ( _how weird_ ) though this time, Morty sighed and chose to submit to the fantasy.

 _M-maybe if I just get it out of my system?_ He hopefully lied to himself. 

In his mind, he felt the pickle in his mouth. Felt the bumpy rind against his tongue and the taste of dill, salt and acidity rolling down his throat. Then he heard Rick groan and say in an almost pitiful voice, “M-morty... _Do it_ , Morty.” and it made his erection bob. 

His penis was pushing out of the little slit of his briefs now. With the moon hitting the head of it and casting dramatic shadows down the bit of exposed shaft, it appeared almost artistic. Morty twitched and could feel a bit of precum seeping from himself now. He let out a long sigh as he slid his hand down his abdomen, gently caressing his hipbone. He returned to the strange fantasy: 

Morty formed a tight suction with his mouth around his grandfather (again; a pickle), and felt more of the juice drain out from the thick, squeaky skin. As Rick's brine trickled down his throat, it made Morty's tastebuds tingle furiously. His mouth quickly filled up with saliva to help him digest the little treat inside. Rick gasped at the pressure and started to pant as Morty grabbed him where his shoulders would've been and began pushing him in and out of the wetness of his huge, hot mouth. Morty sucked firmly and pressed the delicate little pickle body down to massage it against his tongue. Rick cried out, seeming to feel this (despite having been a condiment) and pleaded, “Morty, _Morty_ —!!! P-put my face inside your mouth. Put me in there, _face down_ , on your tongue.” 

Morty in the real world abruptly dropped himself, thinking he had just heard someone stirring somewhere in the house. He slowly turned around to watch and listen, standing on his tip-toes and peering through the dark like a meerkat. 

… 

Nothing. He must've just imagined it. 

In that next moment he suddenly made the decision to do something that made his whole stomach fill up with the most _powerful_ sexual excitement he'd ever felt. He tiptoed over to the fridge and opened the door. The cool air blew out against his skin, hardening his sensitive nipples and making the head of his penis rather chilly. Without even a second thought, he opened the crisper draw with the veggies and tore open the bag of cucumbers. He selected the larger of the two, closed the drawer, the door and then snuck it into the band of his underwear before creeping back upstairs and into his room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty opens up. ✦ w ✦

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw jeez, y'all... Hope you enjoy this ridonkulous BS! XD If anything seems a li'l plotholey it's for a good reason, I promise. ;3 (or maybe I screwed up, we'll find out later, lol.) XD

Once safely back in his room, he quietly closed the door. The excitement of what he was about to do made his stomach do somersaults. He sat back down on the bed and pulled the comforter up over himself before eagerly removing his shiny new toy. It had such length and girth that the very thought of what putting it inside might do to him made his tummy flip-flop again. He thought about how to best go about doing that, since he had only ever worked a couple of fingers around his hole (and had only ever gotten one just barely inside of himself). 

He hurriedly opened his laptop and googled “first time anal penetration male”. A sea of gay porn came flooding in. Morty wasn't threatened by the concept of this activity being considered “gay”, though Morty knew he wasn't. He definitely found girls attractive, though on occasion had casually contemplated the concept of the attractiveness of other guys. This was definitely the first time he'd ever found himself getting hard to the thought of one though; let alone a _family member_. He kinda laughed to himself again, but shrugged it off and murmured, “Planetary mindset.” 

He found a slew of images and videos within moments that were so surprisingly tantalizing that he had almost forgotten about what he was doing in the first place. He clicked to see enlarged versions of them. He chose one of a really very attractive young man, probably not much older than himself, lying on his back and easing a glittering purple plug into his glossed up hole. Morty found that he felt rather excited by the concept and lingered a moment before returning to his search.

Another image; a woman wearing a harness around her waist with a big, pink dildo holstered in, plowing the shit out of a handsome young man beneath her, on his knees... _Very_ exciting. Morty's penis began to really stiffen again; this time he realized the precum had oozed out onto his thigh and was now trailing a cool viscous string back up to his urethra. This made him feel very naughty, so he spit onto his fingers and took himself in his left hand. He stared at the images of the couple on the site he'd clicked into while he squeezed the moisture all around and down his full length. 

He saw that this image was part of a series of photos on a queer blog and that the activity was called “pegging”. (He was sure he must've learned that at some point in the past). He pumped himself slowly to the images of the girl pulling the guy's hair and fucking him hard from behind. He imagined how it would feel if Jessica—(Some part of him was subconsciously relieved to have found this instead)—It was just then that he _again_ remembered his grandfather and at that instant, the sickly little guilty feeling that had accompanied the initial realization came rushing back and jabbed him in his gut again. 

Morty honestly felt so fucking ashamed to be suddenly thinking this way... Contemplating such _ridiculous_ , _disgusting_ things, but then he felt himself throb so hard at the thought of Rick scolding him for it that he started to _ache_. 

He shook his head and resigned himself to his fate. He stroked his cock harder, tilting his head back and sliding down deeper into his mattress. In the same motion, he closed and pushed his laptop off himself and over to his right side. He opened his mouth and began to pant softly as he remembered imagining the feeling of Pickle Rick in his mouth... Imagining the sound of him pleading to be basically suffocated, face-down on Morty's tongue, and it made him weak. His loins burned up with feverish excitement as he squeezed tighter on the down-stroke. 

He pulled his hand back up his length, massaged the head of his cock lightly and trembled at the thought of sucking the pickle-bodied Rick even more... Forcing him to choke on his spit, gasping each time he pulled him out of his mouth; only briefly stopping to look at his tiny face before licking up the full length of the pickle and then pushing in back into his mouth to chew and suck at him again. He jerked the inside of his knuckles up and down along the underside of his dick while he imagined it. Then, he imagined pulling it out of his mouth and pressing that little pickle—his grandfather trapped inside that pickle— _waaaay_ up inside himself. 

He imagined Rick crying out at the feeling of Morty's tight asshole squeezing his weak, fragile little pickled body and begging for Morty to let him have the serum so he could transform back and _“fuck him for real”_. That was when Morty snapped and stopped himself. _I need this right the fuck now, I can't take it anymore!_ He thought. _I'll just fuckin'... figure it out!_ And he grabbed the cucumber.

Morty dunked it in his glass of water and swirled it a little to more-or-less rinse it, then rubbed the skin dry with his blanket. He reached into his end table drawer and frantically fished around for one of the small lube packet freebies from the sex ed event he'd gone to earlier that month. He found the lube and also, an extra large ribbed condom. He'd blushed when he'd seen it in the little freebie bag, knowing his modest length and girth would never be the right fit for it, but accepted it anyway so as not to give this fact away. Now, though, it would actually come in handy. 

He opened it up and sat upright in his bed, holding the long gourd between his thighs as he pinched the tip of the condom and awkwardly forced it to roll down the length of the big fruit. Once finished, the took a long look at his good work. Then he peeled open the little foil pouch and squeezed a liberal amount of lubricant up and down the big, slippery tool. He bit his lip and his guts shuddered as he imagined something so fat forcing into him. He imagined what Rick's cock looked like and if it was anywhere near as big. The naughtiness of it made his head buzz like a jar of angry wasps. He got on his left side, lifted his right leg and planted it on its tippy-toes just behind the inside of his left kneepit, which, as it turned out, spread his ass for insertion pretty nicely. 

He squeezed the lube out onto his fingers and shivered as he smeared them over the ridges of his tightly clamped asshole. He'd recalled how it had felt to work a finger in the first time he'd done it. At that time, it was a simple experiment during masturbation done after a bath with a couple fingers drenched in his own saliva. He'd worked his middle finger in just up to the second knuckle when he'd cum all over himself and needed another bath and a trip to the garage to wash his sheets. Thankfully, Rick had been unconscious that night. 

_This time_ , he was gonna try to take things slower so he could really savor the experience. He wanted to see what he was _capable_ of, even if he knew it was extraordinarily overzealous of him to go from a single digit to a cucumber that was damn near the width of his own fist. Perhaps he should have grabbed the smaller of the two? Hindsight is always 20/20. 

He didn't care if it hurt, though. He _needed_ it inside. He wasn't sure why he hadn't felt this way sooner, but regardless, the sudden realization of his need to be filled was exhilarating. And although he was still ashamed, he knew he wanted it to be Rick. Some part of him must've known that when he'd first seen the bag resting in that drawer; that he'd imagined Rick inside him before in one way or another. Maybe he'd toyed with it in a dream he couldn't recall, but whatever the case, now, in the waking world, in his conscious mind... he was fantasizing about it. And the more he did, the more he _desperately_ needed to feel his grandfather sheathed inside him. 

Morty switched the packet back over to his left hand, crushed out the last remnants of lubricant into it and dropped the pack on the floor. He got himself into position and then coated his entire cock with the cool, slippery substance. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose as he settled back into the fantasy: 

There he was again, in his mind, now laying on the cold garage floor; his legs hoisted way up and his hand forcing his tiny grandpa in and out of himself in short strokes. His other hand was pumping away at his own cock; the harsh, wet sound echoing the urgency of his need all throughout the garage. 

In the real world, in his room, Morty was leisurely slipping his hardened cock in and out of his palm while massaging little circles around his tight asshole with the cucumber. He had sobbed in unison with himself in his mind when he replayed Rick saying those words, “...So I can _fuck_ you for _real_!” Fantasy Morty whined back, “Ohhhouuuhh, _fuck_ , Rick! Y-y-you don't know how long I've wanted to hear you fucking say that!” 

Pickle Rick grunted back at him and gave a strained laugh. “Well _Morty_ , w-we can definitely make that happen, y'just gotta... gotta take me out and give me that serum. I'll need a quick shower, but if you wait for me in my sub-lab under the garage, I will come down there fuck the fucking _daylights_ out of you when I'm done.” 

Real World Morty moaned emphatically and pressed the toy harder against his hole. He rotated it mechanically while he slow-jerked himself and breathed out in sharp puffs from his nose. 

Fantasy Morty cried out and pumped himself harder upon hearing Rick's taunt, slamming Rick's li'l pickle body into his own needy, aching hole with even more force. Rick sputtered back, “Ah, God, Morty! P- _please_! It's like torture! I can't... _do_ anything!” 

Morty in real life let out a gasp as he started to feel himself really stretch open. It burned so deliciously. He wanted it more and more, so he pressed and rotated harder. 

Fantasy Morty wailed and kept going, “I-I'm sorry Rick, I don't—I can't stop! I want it so—want you so bad!!!” Rick coughed back, “Ah, god, Morty! It's like... It's like phantom pain where my junk would be! I feel so fuckin hard and my... ghost nuts are killing me, Morty!” 

Morty in his bed moaned sumptuously and rotated his pretty hips against his big, green dildo-of-sorts while he worked in short, soft tugs on his tender pink dick. 

Pickle Rick barked back, “Morty, seriously! It hurts, dammit! Take me out now!” 

Fantasy Morty whined protestingly in return, then reluctantly ceased what he was doing. He slid Rick out of himself and set him on the floor, then, shaking like a fawn, reached for the syringe. He turned to look at the angry little snack on the floor and said, “Sorry, Rick. I-I got carried away,” before plunging the needle into the squeaky green flesh and filling Rick up with its contents. 

Real World Morty contemplated the hotness of making Rick wince in pain as he penetrated and filled him with _anything_ , and then began bumping the cucumber against his dilating anus in a rhythmic motion. He moaned without equivocation and his eyes rolled back as he really began to feel that thickness working into his body. He couldn't believe how fucking good this felt. He wondered why he hadn't done it sooner, then returned to the fantasy. 

Rick growled in pain when his itty-bitty body blasted out limbs and hair and grew back to his original self. He coughed up a substantial amount of green juice and heaved forward. He rested there like that for a moment before taking a deep breath and lifting himself to his feet; he, too, shaking like his body was new. He looked down at his grandson, crumpled in an overwhelmed and sweaty mess on the floor. Morty looked back up at him with shame in his eyes. Rick's eyes narrowed, but then he just smirked and cocked his eyebrow. “A-alright, _Mortyyyy_ , I'm gonna go wash your ass off of me, get to smellin' fuckin' pretty and then come back in here to show you how good I _really_ feel.” 

Both Real Life Morty and Fantasy Morty let out a surprised sound like something between a gasp and a desperate moan at the thought. 

“Go ahead and get yourself ready down there. The code is written on the underside of my beer poster. There's lube on the table when you first walk down. There's also a lot of other dangerous shit. _Obviously_ , don't fill your asshole with any of it.” 

As Dream Rick left the garage, completely covered in a creamy, vernix-like paste, Real Life Morty was already fast-forwarding to the hot part. 

He imagined himself in the lab; the lights off, but the green glow from the tanks and the rave-esque accent lighting gave the room an almost welcoming glow. It was kind of hot, like a freaky sci-fi sex club (even—no, _especially_ —with the weird monsters and clones in tanks). Morty had found the bottle of lube very easily and was already rubbing it all over his ass crack and fingering it into his hole. 

Rick came down the stairs in a fluffy pink towel, hair damp and droopy, smelling like honeysuckle or somesuch, and found Morty on his back on the table with his fingers in his little asshole. “Hmph, couldn't wait anymore, huh Morty?” Morty smiled sheepishly and shook his head, then sat more upright and hoisted his legs up to appear as seductive as possible. Rick smirked again and walked right up to him, his unbelievably slim 6'1” frame towering over him and making Morty quake with nervous desire. 

Real Life Morty shifted on his bed, arching his back to inch the cucumber deeper. It was starting to hurt a little and he was not about to stop this before he had finished. 

Dream Rick crouched down until his face was just in front of Fantasy Morty's smaller, sweatier face, and he looked him right in the eye and asked, “Why are you such a nasty slut, Morty? How long have you been wanting to fuck your grandpa?” Fantasy Morty wriggled excitedly and sighed back, “For as long as I can remember,” 

Real Life Morty stopped and thought about that for a moment for real, but it didn't register anything, so he shrugged it off and continued. 

Dream Rick grabbed Fantasy Morty by his slim ankles and spread his legs wider, and holding them tight, pinned him into a prone position. Fantasy Morty purled and wriggled his hips while driving his fingers into himself deeper. “Riiiiick,” he sang seductively. _“Please...”_ Rick looked him over and said, “Please, what?” Morty pushed his bottom lip out into a little pout. “Rick, _please_! Do what you said you'd do!” Rick grinned and looked at him through heavy lids. “What did I say I'd do, Morty?” Morty let go of his dick and held his hand up, then glared at Rick. “I'm gonna slap you.” But Rick pulled Morty towards him by his legs. The towel was on the floor now and Rick was already hard as a fuckin rock. He grabbed the lube bottle and squirted a heaping dollop onto the head of his cock, then started ferociously pumping it like it had done him wrong. 

“You're a dirty little _bitch_ , Morty. You're in _big_ trouble.” Morty squirmed and moaned with satisfaction as he awaited his punishment for being so bad. Rick grabbed his cock tightly and angled himself toward Morty's entrance, the head of it shining like polished glass and looking like it ached just as much as Rick had said it did. Morty squealed and jittered with bratty anticipation. But then Rick stopped, released his dick from his grasp and grabbed Morty's hips. 

Morty stopped celebrating, very confused and then suddenly, felt himself being flipped over onto his stomach. Then, without warning, Rick came down _HARD_ with his palm against the soft flesh of Morty's bare, wet ass with a blunt, stinging smack. Morty yelped in shock and arched his back, lifting his ass higher toward Rick and moaned lushly. Rick hissed, “No, Morty. This is fucked up, you're _sick_.” And smacked him again, in the same spot, even harder. It hurt! 

Real Life Morty inhaled, sucking in his drool at the same time. 

Fantasy Morty squealed. “Ohhh please, Rick. _Pleeeease_!” Rick just scoffed. “You're disgusting, you little shit! What were you thinking doing that shit to me when I was a pickle? What made you think that kind of shit was okay?” He slapped Morty's ass again and again, in the same spot; Morty crying out with increasingly heightened urgency at each impact. “I _need_ you, Rick! I n-need you so fucking bad! I-I-I don't care that it's wrong! I don't _care_!” Rick slapped his ass again and again, making it sting so bad that Morty was almost beginning to wish Rick would stop now. “Ough, R-rick! It _hurtsss_!” he moaned. Rick blew out softly through pursed lips and rubbed his hand comfortingly over the sore flesh. He gingerly slid his fingertips along the cleft of Morty's slippery asscrack and cooed. Morty gasped. Rick gently massaged downward towards his hole and just as he was about to nudge a fingertip inside, he raised his hand back up and slapped Morty's raw ass cheek 5 more times. 

Morty cried in his fantasy, but he was reeling in reality. He wanted to keep going at this forever, but all the stopping and starting was beginning to make his balls ache like hell. He knew his young hormones would not allow for this shit much longer. Even getting _this_ far was a blessing. He exhaled sharply and bared down on the cucumber, pressing it inward as hard as he could stand. 

In his mind, he imagined himself begging Rick again; this time between gasps, “ _Please_ Rick, _please_! ...Fuck me! Pl-please fuck the sh-shit out of me! I need it so fucking bad, Rick. _Please!!!_ ” And with that, Rick spread Morty's cheeks with his thumbs and slammed his hard cock all the way inside in one, brutal shove.

Real Morty felt the surge build inside him... the pleasure ballooning, swelling rapidly. Felt himself stretch past the thickest point of the cucumber as he rammed it in, imagining it was Rick's cock; hot and throbbing like a wound. His body tensed and his joints locked as he neared the top. Suddenly, the cucumber slipped from his fingers, his hole seeming to swallow it up. He squeezed his eyes shut and pounded his cock furiously. He felt himself clench and his mouth fell open wide as he blurted, "G-grandpa!" Followed by a pained groan of ecstasy escaping from his chest. The bolt shot through him and he convulsed, shooting four long spurts of semen onto his little space-themed throw rug. He pulsed as he lay there panting, a limp, slippery mess of sweat and various fluids. He moaned to himself. _That was sooo fucking good._ Then, with sudden horrified clarity he realized that the ENTIRE cucumber was now inside him and that he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to get it out...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is still WiP so just a heads up, if you decide to read it. I'm getting impatient with myself, lol and want to just post the blurb I was working on last night. If you want to only read the finished chapter, check back to the Notes or my Twitter for status updates. 😁

Rick awoke suddenly to a bonking sound coming from his ceiling. He blinked and struggled to hoist his boney ass up from the cot. He propped himself up on an elbow and wobbled; his head pounding. He fondled in the dark toward the spool-shaped end table. His fingertips brushed against stainless steel and he immediately closed them around the small, flat object and brought it to himself. The tinny sloshing sound of it made his stomach churn. He unscrewed the lid and slammed the last little bit of fluid inside it, then he coughed and heaved a raspy sigh.

_Ughhh, goddamn it, what is that little shit up to?_

He rose to his feet and shuffled out the door. The hallway was dark except for the full moon light creeping throughout. Rick stopped near the closet at the foot of the staircase and listened for a moment. He swore he could hear Morty talking to himself. He cocked one side of his unibrow and started his ascent up the stairs. When he came to Morty's door he could now clearly hear that Morty was definitely frantically rambling to himself; apparently very flustered about _some-fuckin-thing_. Rick grabbed the doorknob and turned it.

Morty was crouched over a towel on his floor, sweating hard and squeezing like an egg-bound bird. As Rick entered, their eyes met and went wide. Morty, horrified, fell backwards onto the towel and he scrambled to cover himself. He quietly shouted at Rick to “ _knock_ before coming in!” Rick glared at Morty judgmentally as he closed the door behind him and said, “Smells like cum in here, kid. And what the fuck did you shove up your butt?”

Morty's face burst into flames. “N-n-n- _nothing_! I-I-I-”

Rick just rolled his eyes and walked over to him. He bent down, grabbed Morty by his arms and pushed him onto his back, pinning him like a small animal. Morty flailed and shrieked at him.

“W-w-w-wwwwhat are you doing, Rrrick?” he stammered. “Llll-let me go!”

Rick gave him the most exhausted and annoyed look ever as he pressed and palpated at Morty's abdomen with his free hand. Morty pleaded for him to stop when Rick's hand pressed down against something hard. Morty groaned as Rick traced the outline of a foreign object; large and phallic, exactly as he expected. He sighed at Morty, who was still wriggling and whimpering with discomfort underneath him.

“Alright, kid, come on,” he huffed as he wrapped the corners of the towel around Morty like a burrito and carried him off to the garage.

Morty struggled against the confines of his grandfather's arms (though probably not as urgently as he should have; it kinda felt good to be held so tightly by Rick). Upon entering the garage, Rick flipped a switch and brought up the panic room doors Morty remembered from the parasite incident. He felt a little uneasy now.

Rick laid Morty down on his desk far gentler than Morty had expected him to. Rick turned around walked to the tall shelving against the inner wall. He reached behind it and pulled out a collapsible table. He drug it to the center of the garage, snapped a few things in place along the table's legs and hit a switch on the side which made a bunch of high-tech medical apparatuses spring up from the underside of it, held in place by long spider-like metal arms and curving over the top of the table rather menacingly.

Morty winced and clenched himself.

Rick slowly nodded at Morty while rolling his eyes and gesturing with his hand for him to come get on the table. Morty slid down off the desk, bare feet hitting the cold floor with a loud **PLAP**. He held the towel around himself tightly, like a cold child fresh from the pool. He approached the table hesitantly, his head hanging in shame. “M-morty, I totally don't care that you like it up the butt”, he shrugged, looking bored. “I mean, honestly, who doesn't?” Morty's ears warmed and he lifted his head some. “I can help you get it out of there. It's not even weird. I-I'm actually pretty offended that you didn't think to ask me for help sooner.”

Morty's mind flashed back to the fantasy from earlier; where he was laying in front of Rick, wet and sore and begging to be fucked. He buried his face in his towel-covered hands. Rick just shook his head. “Jesus, Morty. J-just get your ass up on the table.”

Morty put his backside against the foot of the table and brought his hands down, attempting to lift himself up and onto it. He felt a sharp pain when he tensed his abdomen. He let out a sharp sound and whipped his head to Rick for reassurance. Rick sighed and rolled his eyes again, then walked around and stood in front of Morty. Rick brought his hands up and hooked them through Morty's underarms, hoisting him up onto the table in a swift motion. Morty felt almost embarrassingly small in that moment. He carefully watched Rick's face as he did it, noting how he almost looked through him.

As Rick sat him down, the cucumber dug in at an angle inside Morty and it made him cry out. He reached to his side and pulled away as soon as he felt the disturbingly hard spot inside of his abdomen. He looked up at Rick again, searching for some form of reassurance. Rick reached up and gently pressed his hand against Morty's chest. Morty, understanding and complying, but vocalizing confused sounds anyway, did as he was instructed. Rick then clasped a hand around each of Morty's upper arms and scooted him further up the table so that his head was resting where it should be. The enhanced strength of Rick's body was most noticeable in these moments when he moved Morty. Morty felt something inside of his chest bubble up as he contemplated this, then he lightly tranced out, following the length of Rick's arms back up to his shoulders. His eyes sliding over to Rick's face, which was hard, focused and distant. Cross-hatched with lines branching from all around his eyes and down to his chin and neck. He watched Rick's eyes move as he extended a metal leg with a foot rest from the bottom end of the table. He pulled another and moved them both into position as he nodded for Morty to lift up and set his feet in place. As Morty prepared to do so, he froze. Then he felt words form and spill out, 

"I-is it going to _hurt_ , Rick?"

Rick tilted his head to look at him and cocked his eyebrow. "Y-you shoved a cucumber as thick as your fist up your ass and you're-you're worried about that _now_?" The corners of Morty's little mouth curved downward in embarrassment and averted his eyes from Rick's, down, toward the garage door. 

Rick put his hands on his hips and suddenly said, "Okay, kid. Here's the deal: I realize this is likely gonna be weirder for you that it will be for me because I've actually had to remove more weird shit from people's asses in my day than I'd care to recall. There's a couple things though... One, you're probably gonna need to be sedated. And two, you'll need a painkiller."

Morty looked up at Rick so pitifully that it made Rick snicker. "Jesus, kid. What did-what didja _think_ would happen?"

Morty closed his eyes and continued to pout, his whole body tightening as he clenched his little fists into balls. "I-I wasn't, really... _th-thinking_ about this part a-at all." Rick scoffed as he laughed, " _No shit!_ " He shook his head and brought up his hands to emote. "L-look, I'm not trying to be _lewd_ here, but... _Morty_ , how do ya think you got that shit in there in the first place? Y-you know how _powerful_ the chemicals your brain gives off actually _are_? That whole physiological response--sexual arousal?--gives off a biochemical reaction that numbs pain and heightens sensitivity to pleasurable sensation. Without that, you need a pain killer to open your ass back up, otherwise... I'll have to uhhh, give you a laparotomy."

Morty's eyes bugged out. "W-wh-aaat's that?"

Rick shrugged and scratched his head. "G-gotta cut into ya, kid."

Morty whined. "B-but Rick! You're like... a genius super scientist! Ha-haven't you come up with something less intrusive yet?" Rick cackled, "Yeah Morty, the safety of your asshole is such a priority for me that I spent months developing a new ~super mild treatment~ for removal of foreign bodies from rectums. _C'mon kid_ , those are your options."

Morty fidgeted while he thought. "Th-there's really _nothing_ else that you can do?"

Rick sputtered on nothing and crossed his arms. "Well aside from, like, _jerking you off_ , kid, not really!"

Morty felt his hot face flush as a little tingle wound its way through his groin. "W-wh..." He shifted, but with his legs in such a prone position, it was impossible to _not_ draw attention to himself. Rick's face went red now, as his attempts to keep his eyes away from the lower half of his grandson's body were foiled by the awkward shifting on the table in front of him. They glanced over the flesh between Morty's legs; which was unmistakably beginning to fill out. Rick spat and backed away from the table.

"Kid...?" Rick said, almost defensively as he raised his palms protectively in front of himself. "Th-that's not..."

"W-wait! I-it's not-!!" Morty explained, scrambling to pull his feet down as he carefully lifted himself up. "Rick, p-please... Don't go! Mom and Summer can't find out about this! I-i-if I have to go to the hospital, I'll never hear the end of it!"

Rick rubbed his palm up his forehead and back through his hair. He sighed _hard_ and dropped his shoulders, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "I-iiiiiis that what this is all about, Morty? Y-y-you trying to get some... some _bad porn_ shit going between us? Y-you've always been a fuckin' weirdo, but... when did you become _that kind_ of Morty?"

Morty squinched up his features in frustration. "W-w-w- _what_?!! _NO!_ I-I-I... Th-this was just... I was spending some time to--" 

Then something in Morty broke. Without warning, tears began to roll from his eyes. "God, _Please_ don't hate me, Rick. I can't-- _I-Iiiiiiii can't control it_ , I'm sorry. I-iiit just started... _happening_ , I don't-- I n-never expected anything like this. It's... Please _don't leave_."

Rick sighed again; this time almost sympathetically. "Shit, Morty. I won't _hate_ you, I... I've just seen this stuff happen before. It... It's _messy_."

Morty saw something flicker in his grandfather's eyes as he spoke and he blurted out, "But w-what if... no one _knew_?"

Rick's posture changed and he scuffed the bottom of a shoe against the cement floor. " _Mor_ ty... Are you really trying to _negotiate_ for this? _Right now?_ Right here, right now; with a giant vegetable jammed up in your intestines? This really seem like a good time to discuss a _life-changing_ move into something like that?"

Morty wiped his forearm against his tear-stained cheeks. As he tugged on the thread of his grandfather's moral qualms about fucking around with him, he felt his courage build and it made him excited. "Y-you're not saying you don't want it too, Rick."

Rick bulged his eyes, shook his head and threw up his arms as he blew a raspberry from his lips. "Jesus fuckin' _Christ_ , Morty!"

Morty discreetly bit the inside of his lip and angled his head downward a little to look up at Rick with mischievous eyes. "S-so you w-want me too, then..." He said, dropping his eyelids lower and smirking softly.

Rick, shaking his head at his grandson's audacity, just laughed and planted the knuckles of his fists on his hips. " _Unbelievable_ , Morty." But Morty knew he was winning and it made him power-hungry. His tone changed; becoming slightly more sultry as he pleaded. "C-c'mon, jus-just help me, Rick. _Please_?" He leaned back and held his hand just above the spot in his left side where the ache was beginning to really set in. Rick worked hard to convey how exasperated he was at Morty's new behavior. He moved close to the table again, expressing his apparent reluctance. When he stopped he was towering over, right between the foot rests, staring down at Morty's sinister little face.

"You're a little _shit_ , Morty."

Morty's cock was filling out nicely by now. Being scolded like that made it twitch and his grandfather _definitely_ took notice, which made it twitch again. Rick swallowed, seeming to actually become _nervous_ , despite his best efforts to appear in control of the situation. Morty lowered back down and scooted himself back into position. He raised his feet into the stirrups and exposed himself to Rick. 

Rick felt his cock stirring as his tired eyes trailed down the valley of his grandson's parted cheeks. Morty's cleft and cheeks now tacky with dried lubricant, but his hole--puckering and pink--still shiny in the center from the internal wetness of the lube previously forced inside. 

" _Please_..." Morty murmured softly as his hands flexed at his sides.

Rick closed his eyes and exhaled sharply through a tight opening in his lips. He thought for a moment; weighed his options, then acted: He reached into his coat and removed a familiar device; a grey controller with an antenna. He pushed the button, then set it on the tray attached to the side of Morty's table. Then he walked around to Morty's left side and looked down at him, "Why do you think you want this, Morty?"

Morty's excitement turned to shame in the blink of an eye. He searched himself internally; eyes darting to the bottom left of his vision, then back up to Rick, and he said, "...I'm not sure."

Rick sighed again (he was making it a habit). 

Morty nodded, understanding his grandfather's frustration and followed with, "N-no, I get it. I mean... I've thought about it; _really_ thought about it to the point where I've driven myself kind of crazy. I've asked myself every question I could think to ask; if it was abuse, loneliness, desperation, neglect, a need for validation... a-aaand the truth is, I-I don't really know that it _isn't_ some of that stuff, but... I'm not sure if it _is_ , either."

Rick bulged his eyes once and puffed out a big breath. "Y-you're not really making me feel better about it, kid." 

Morty dropped his eyebrows and tweaked the left side of his mouth. "I-I-I know, Rick. I know. I just... I really want you near me... i-iiin a way that doesn't make sense." Rick's unibrow was gathered into the center of his forehead; a whole row of wrinkles gathering at the top of it. He blinked slowly and vulnerably as he sighed, looking Morty in his big, brown eyes.

"Kid, I know you're legal. Hell, you've technically been legal for like a year now with all the timeline fuckery that I've been pulling, but, you know... _we're related_ and there's a significant fucking age gap, so you know what that means for us if we proceed and we're found out. I-I know that sounds dramatic what with the crazy fuckin' shit we do on a daily basis, but not even _I_ would feel right if I didn't make absolutely sure you knew this. This _will_ get messy; and I'm not just talking about pulling a mashed-up vegetable out of your shitty colon... I'm talking about more _stress_. Do you _want_ more stress, Morty?" 

Morty lifted his hand and grabbed onto Rick's. Rick's hand twitched at the violation and he almost pulled it away, but instead relaxed and let it happen. "Rick, I want _you_... You're crazy and fucked up and complicated and so am I. What does it matter that this will be too? It's fitting for us, if anything. I've decided this is what I want."

Rick was silent, then smirked down at the kid and said, "God, that's gay... _Alright_."

Rick walked over to the sink and pushed up his sleeves. He washed his hands and arms in a professional manner that felt uncharacteristic of him, then dried them with paper towel. He then returned to his position at the foot of the table and reached over to the tray at his left. He pulled a pair of blue gloves from inside of a little box on the tray and slipped one onto his left hand. He wriggled his fingers as he pulled the glove over them and snapped it into place at his wrist, then did the same for his right. He flexed his hands, then reached for a tube of medical grade lubricating jelly. Morty couldn't see much at the angle he was at, but when he saw Rick's hairy forearms; sleeves bunched up to his elbows and the blue nitrile gloves, he felt his stomach swirl with all different kinds of emotion; most of which _anxiety_. He pushed his butt closer to the end of the table and curled his toes around the little foot rests as he waited for Rick to begin. Then he felt a new fear blossom and he had to ask, " _Rick_? Y-you're _not_ gonna cut me or drug me or anything, right?"

Rick laughed and said, "O-only if you want me to, Morty."

This comment crossed into completely new conceptual territory for Morty and he knew it was a joke, but it felt like there was a little bit of truth to it too... and he kind of liked it. He was satisfied by Rick's reply, so he chose to settle back and let him work; the cucumber was really starting to cramp, after all.

Rick flipped the cap off the lube, squeezed a blob into his left hand and rubbed it around his gloved fingertips. "Are you ready, Morty? Cause if you change your mind, just say the word."

"I'm _ready_ , Rick," hummed Morty as he tried not to focus on any of the fears in his mind. "Okay," Rick replied as he reached forward to begin gently running his dry gloved hand down the inside of his grandson's thigh. Morty let out a surprised squeak that melted into a warm moan as the strong fingers of his grandfather's hand trailed up and down the curved length of his soft thigh. The fear faded and his heart fluttered. It felt like he was in a dream. He brought his balled-up fists to his chin and held them there against his heart. And Rick's chest heaved noticeably with his every exhalation. This was doing something huge to him as well and Morty felt proud of that fact.

Rick's hand shakily retreated to the area behind his grandson's knee and cautiously slid down his outer thigh to trace along the pouch of fat at the edge of his hip. Rick pressed experimentally with his thumb at the outermost edge of Morty's ass cheek and spread it; Morty's breath hitched and his hole winked and stretched as Rick did so. He whined and looked up at his grandfather's messy hair and wild eyes; both seeming simultaneously softened and intensified by the crazy shit they were now getting themselves both into. Morty's eyelids fluttered as he tried to convey to Rick what he wanted without words. Rick, read his eyes and rasped, "Y'gotta tell me, Morty. W-what do you want?"

Morty felt his head go fizzy as his heart sped from a canter into a gallop. "M-more... To-touch me... more... _please_ "

**Author's Note:**

> More to come! Still a bit of a WiP, but very close to finishing. (*ahem* unintentionally lewd)


End file.
